I grew up in Washington, D.C. I’m used to weird sh!t happening. Still, this is a new one. After writing the previous post, I got up to go and make a sandwich. There’s a window above the kitchen sink that looks out on the yard. Under this window sits a bench.
So, I look out the window as I put two pieces of bread in the toaster and am greeted by this:
Okay, actually, I looked out, saw the patio and shrieked as a giant blue head swiveled up into the window and looked at me. But I didn’t have my camera and was too busy trying to remember to breathe as I stared at the peacock watching me curiously.
And so I ran, grabbed my camera and took a photo to prove that I am not delusional (see? priorities) and then tried to find the phonebook. Animal Control, I chanted as I searched the living room.
Nope. Couldn’t find it. So I called Mum to yell at Dad (whose cell was OFF) and demand to know where he’d hid the dame phone book this time. Mum asked him and then asked me what was wrong.
“There’s a giant fricking peacock in our backyard!”
Mum started laughing. “Oh, yeah, D mentioned that.”
“They have a peacock? ” I had a hard time imagining the ex-Marine nextdoor owning a peacock. It just didn’t fit with the buzzcut and Ford truck.
“No, but one got stuck in his backyard recently.”
Right. “Well, I’m calling animal control. He’s someone’s pet, clearly, and there are tons of raccoons about.”
“What’s he doing? Is it a he? It could be a peahen,” Mum chuckled, obviously enjoying this.
“No, it’s a he. He’s green and blue. And He is eating a granola bar I threw out back.”
“You threw a granola bar at him?” She was laughing hysterically now, and so was Dad distantly.
“No! I broke it up and threw the crumbs on the patio,” I replied defensively. I can just imagine her miming me throwing a brick-like thing at some stupid bird.
“And he’s eating it?”
“Yes!” I think he also ate our tomatoes, now that I think about it…
“Well, go and ask D what to do about him, then.” So, I did. And it turns out that our friendly little peacock is a … I dunno what he is, actually. But He, “has the run of the neighborhood. Just leave him alone and he’ll move on.”
“He won’t get eaten by a raccoon?”
Alrighty, then. Of course, being stared at by the giant freaking bird as I made myself a turkey sandwich was a bit weird and uncomfortable. And then he started coo-ing as I sat down. This is just damned surreal.